


Ostranenie

by AifasInTheSky



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Introspection, Literary Theory, Literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14156094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AifasInTheSky/pseuds/AifasInTheSky
Summary: A reflection about art and life.





	Ostranenie

He had heard about this at university, back in Russia. _Ostranenie_ , a classmate had said to him, in one of those rare moments after class when they would discuss literature and politics over glasses of cheap vodka at Ermolai’s basement, their safe haven. _The manipulation of the form; transforming the mundane, making it so complex that even the most common thing can be seen as new, rare_ _\- wonderful._ He had laughed, having had one too many drinks on him to think about it with any seriousness. But later, and far away from college, from his friends, from his family, he would think about it.

He would think about it at the Gulag, when he spotted on the floor the small figurines little boys would shape at night from short scraps of wire.

He would think about it at his cot in Siberia, when he caught Zhanna making collars with the teeth of the bears her sisters brought home.

He thought about it every time he saw his _doktor_ work.

The battlefield was not a place of beauty. Oh, no. It was a place of spilled blood and death, grit and smoke and screams plaguing every one of your senses. Corpses laying on the ground, smoke from rockets and bombs and burning flesh filling the air, invading one’s nostrils, leaving an acrid taste in one’s mouth. They lived on it - it was their environment, their _okru_ _ženie_. They were used to it - they went to fight, they died, they came back, again and again and again. They were simple men, in a simple world. It was routine for them. It was easy, to simply kill and die. The cycle was not to be questioned.

But then there was that man. Medic, who defied death, who defied his oaths, who defied even bullets! Medic, an artist in his trade, who was not afraid of taking risks, of employing unconventional measures in order to improve their performance. Medic, who made ordinary men like them into something rare, something new, something that could outsmart bullets and fire and death, something that left awe at its pass.

If that was not art, Heavy thought, then he did not know what was.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like 3 years ago when I was studying to take my Literature final exam. It's been this long and I still haven't taken it *sighs*
> 
> I hoped for this to become part of a longer heavymedic fic but in the end I decided to publish it on its own. I'm sure I'll write more elaborate stuff for this ship anyways
> 
> By the way, if any Russian speaker wants to help me by making a correction, please go ahead! I don't trust online translators too much these days
> 
> \-----
> 
> Information time!
> 
> \- About _ostranenie_ or defamiliarization: [[link]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defamiliarization)  
>  \- About Russian formalism: [[link]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_formalism)
> 
> \-----
> 
>  **Edit #1:** Changed all the em dashes by hyphens because I found out they aren't visible on certain platforms (like for example my own phone) and I want the text to be readable on all formats. Sorry for the inconvenience.
> 
>  **Edit #2:** I passed the final exam! And with a great mark too \o/ Thank you, fanfiction XD


End file.
